


Everything So Clear

by AgentStannerShipper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 14, implied Donna Hanscum/Jody Mills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 05:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18025985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Five times Dean Winchester came out as bisexual, and one time he admitted to being in love.





	Everything So Clear

**Author's Note:**

> I knocked this little thing out in like a day because it wouldn't stop kicking around my brain. I'm sure plenty of other people have done this and done it better, but here's my contribution, because this boy deserves to come out of the closet. Hope you like it.
> 
> Title is, predictably, from REO Speedwagon's "I Can't Fight This Feeling," because of course it is.

1

He tells Jody first. He certainly hadn’t intended to, but they have some down time now that the Michael fiasco is over and they’re visiting with Donna and Jody and the girls, and Sam is with everyone else in the living room and Dean and Jody are in the kitchen doing the dishes and there’s been this weight on Dean’s chest for so long and Jody is like family but she’s distant enough that it feels safe and the words just slip out beneath the running water, soft and indistinct but loud enough that Jody stills momentarily when she hears him.

“I’m bisexual.”

She waits a beat to answer. “Okay.”

He turns to look at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “Okay?”

She shrugs. “Okay.” She turns the water off and dries her hands on the dish towel. For all that she’s being casual, there’s an undercurrent, something in her posture and face that Dean can read, and he can tell: she’s trying not to make a big deal out of something that clearly is.

“You’re not going to tell me that it’s about time I came out? Or that it doesn’t matter?”

“It clearly matters to you,” Jody points out. She leans back against the table. “Have you told Sam? Or Mary? Or, hell, Cas?”

He shakes his head. She nods, lips pursed. “Right.” Then she pushes off the table and reaches for him with both arms. “Come on. Bring it in.”

Dean lets himself be pulled in for a hug, and when Jody releases him he raises his eyebrows at her. “What was that for?”

“For telling me,” she says. “I’m guessing it wasn’t easy for you.”

He shrugs. “Actually, it was…it was good. It felt good to say it.” He’s been holding it in for so long, but after seeing his dad again and Michael and everything else that’s happened, finally admitting it, including to himself, just feels right.

“Then good.” Jody smiles at him. “That’s good.” She pauses, and then adds, “And, just for the record, I am too. Bi, I mean. Didn’t really think it needed saying, but…”

They both glance towards the living room, where Donna’s distinct laughter is rising up above the sound of the television, and Dean gets it.

 

2

“Mom, can we talk?” he says, and Mary frowns in confusion but nods and sits down at the bunker’s kitchen table. Another mother figure, another kitchen, and Dean almost wants to laugh, but his stomach is too twisted up in knots to do so, so instead he takes a seat opposite her and laces his fingers together to keep from fidgeting.

“Is everything alright?” Mary asks when he doesn’t speak for a moment. “Is this about Michael? He’s not-“

Dean waves her off. “No, it’s not…he’s not…I’m fine. No, I wanted to talk to you about…something else.” His throat is tight, tighter than with Jody, because this is his actual mom, not some surrogate, and she _lives_ with them and what if…

But Dean’s a grown man, and he’s faced down the devil, God, and God’s sister. He can have this conversation.

“Look,” he says. “I don’t know how much you know about this sort of stuff, given the whole lack-of-internet and living in Kansas, but…I’m bisexual.” He waits a moment, and then adds, “It means-“

“I know what it means,” Mary says gently. She looks curious, but there’s no disgust on her face, and Dean lets out the breath caught in his chest. He feels a little bit lighter.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it?”

Dean hesitates. He had reasons, he knows he did. Reasons why he shouldn’t come out, why telling anyone, let alone his mother could have been disastrous. But it takes him a minute to remember any of them. “I mean, it’s a little…I dunno, out there.”

“It’s really not.”

Dean blinks, and Mary covers his hand with her own. “You’re my son, and I want you to be happy. Whatever that means.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m glad you told me.” She pats his hand and, in true Winchester fashion, gets up to get them both a beer.

 

3

“I can’t believe a necromancer managed to track you down just so she could kill you and make you her zombie boyfriend.” Sam can’t stop laughing, and Dean can’t exactly blame him. Harper’s overzealous stalking of Jack had been terrifying in the moment, but now that she’s well and truly dealt with, even he can’t stop a chuckle or two.

He slings down his bag on the war room table and ruffles Jack’s hair. “Gotta hand it to you, kid. You did awesome today.”

Jack preens a little, like he always does whenever someone pays him a compliment, especially now that he doesn’t have his powers. But then his expression turns reflective. “Harper didn’t really love me. She loved the idea of me. That’s not the same thing, is it?”

“No,” Sam says, settling his giant moose limbs down into a chair. “No, it’s not.”

“You don’t have to worry about that yet, though,” Dean cuts in. “You’re, what, two and a half? Three? You’ve got plenty of time before you have to figure out love.”

“Have you figured it out?” Jack asks, because he likes asking those kinds of massive, existential questions. He’s so very like Cas sometimes.

“Nah.” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone’s ever really figured love out. We’re all just…doing our best.” There’s that pressure on his chest again, even though there’s no reason for it to be there, and Dean turns his back on his brother and adopted son under the guise of checking the library to see if anyone’s home. The silence behind him feels massive.

Eventually, Sam says, “Yeah. Love is great, Jack, but don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m sure not all the girls you attract will want to kill you.”

“Or boys,” Dean adds reflexively, and snaps his jaw shut, body tensing. When he turns back, Sam’s eyebrows are raised, and Jack’s head is cocked. Dean shrugs. “What? Nothing wrong with it.”

“No,” Sam agrees slowly. “There isn’t.” A look passes between them, and Dean realizes that Sam knows. That Sam’s surprise isn’t because Dean brought it up, but because, well, Dean brought it up.

Dean looks at Jack again, and then says, “It’s fine if you like boys or girls. Or both. Or neither. Just…” Dean knows he’s rambling a little. “You can always talk to us. About anything.”

“Is this The Talk?” Jack asks, his confused look deepening, and Dean can hear Cas’s air quotes in his voice.

Sam laughs. “No. Not today.” He gives Dean a look that says _you’re going to give it to him, not me_ , and Dean shoots a bitchface back. Jack watches the exchange and does a mental shrug, then wanders down the hallway towards his room.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sam asks softly when he’s out of ear shot.

Dean looks at him. He sighs. “I don’t know. Did you…?”

“I knew,” Sam confirms. “Or, well, I thought…maybe. Didn’t want to say anything. Freak you out.”

“Yeah…” Dean hesitates, and then says, “I am. Bisexual.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Yeah, I do.” Dean drums his fingers against the table, the rhythmic tapping soothing his nerves. “I read all the pamphlets, I know I don’t ‘have’ to come out, but…I dunno. I denied it for a really long time. Even to myself. And now…” He shakes his head and laughs a little. “It feels really fucking good to say it, man.”

Sam smiles. “Good.” He smacks Dean’s shoulder a bit. “I’m happy for you.” He cocks his head. “You tell Mom yet?”

“Yeah. She took it…she took it awesome.” He’s thrilled there’s not even a trace of sarcasm in the words. Mary really has been cool with it. They don’t talk about it, really, but Dean can tell.

“What about Cas?”

The weight had lifted, but suddenly it’s back again, constricting Dean’s chest. He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“You know he’ll be fine with it, right? He’s proven pretty thoroughly that the whole ‘God hates the gays’ thing isn’t even close to true. And even if it was, he’s never exactly been the perfect angel.”

“I know.” Dean can’t meet Sam’s eyes. “I’m going to tell him. I just…I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“Right,” Sam says, and there’s something under the words, but Dean refuses to think about what that means.

 

4

There is no right moment. There never is a right moment, and they’re in the middle of a case, sitting in a diner while Cas pours over the news reports for any leads, half paying attention while he asks after Dean, if there’s any residual issues from Michael, how Dean has been because it’s been awhile since they’ve gotten to work together, and Dean just blurts it out because they’re both here and it’s _Cas_ and he just can’t keep it in anymore. “I’m bi.”

Cas blinks once, then twice, then tilts his head. “You’re bisexual?” he asks, and Dean can tell the question isn’t what it sounds like.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve sort of…been coming out to everybody lately, you know, Mom, Sam…you. I just thought you should know.”

Cas nods thoughtfully. “Alright.” There’s a moment of silence, and then he says, “You know, sexual orientation is irrelevant in my father’s eyes. He himself has indiscriminate attraction towards people of different genders. I wouldn’t think badly of you for this.”

“I know,” Dean says, even though he’d half thought it until Cas said the actual words. “But thanks.”

“Of course. It means a great deal that you wanted to tell me.”

The silence stretches again, and something nudges from the back of Dean’s throat, like it’s trying to escape his mouth, but then Cas sees something on the computer that catches his eye and it’s back to the case, leaving Dean feeling like there’s something he’s supposed to say that he’s forgotten.

 

5

Jack has been shy around Rowena ever since he tried to kill her. It’s been more than a year, but every time the witch is in the same room with him, Dean can see the way Jack curls in on himself. Even a few moths ago, Rowena would have held it against him, and Dean wouldn’t have entirely blamed her. He knows, mostly through Sam, that Rowena still has a lot of trauma relating to Lucifer, and the guy’s kid trying to murder her had to bring up all sorts of nasty stuff. But Rowena has been uncharacteristically kind towards Jack lately, and Dean is relieved. No need to give the kid cause to beat himself up any more than he already does. He certainly takes after the Winchesters – Cas included – in that respect.

They’re at a hotel bar on the tail end of a case, because Rowena refuses to stay at any hotel not fancy enough to have a bar and lounge, and Rowena is teasing Jack about being too young to drink, saying “the wee lad should already be tucked in bed with a story or two at this time of night,” and Jack is blushing and squirming and looking to Dean for assistance. He grins and raises his hands in surrender before taking a sip of his beer. “Sorry, kid.”

Rowena’s smile widens. “It’s almost too easy. No fun when they don’t fight back.” She pinches Jack’s cheek a little and he squirms all the more.

“Leave the kid alone,” Dean finally says, although without any heat. “It’s not like he has a curfew.”

“Lax parenting.” Rowena nods. “Still, better than me with my own son.” She manages not to flinch anymore when she thinks of Crowley, and Dean commends her for it. His own feelings about the demon are still complicated, even two plus years after his death.

He changes the subject. “I was surprised to see you come alone on this one. Don’t you usually have a bodyguard or two tagging along?”

“Well, it’s not like I need their assistance,” Rowena points out. She grins slyly. “And I have all the eye candy I need right here.” The look she gives him is lascivious, and Dean rolls his eyes but brushes it off.

“I don’t know. That last guy was pretty hot.”

Rowena’s eyebrows shoot up momentarily. “Out of the closet now, are we?”

Jack is looking back and forth between them, and it occurs to Dean that the kid might not actually _know_ , know. He shrugs. “Yeah. Guess I am.”

Rowena seems even more surprised by that admission, like the last question had been a passive-aggressive bait rather than legitimate curiosity. Knowing her, it could have been, and that was why Dean had answered so frankly. “Well then.” She twirls her drink, some brightly colored cocktail, with her straw. “What does the angel think of you ogling my men? I assume you’re together now?”

Dean nearly chokes on a sip of his beer. “ _What_?”

“Castiel,” Rowena repeats, like he’s stupid. “I assume now that you’re over your hang-ups about the body he happens to be in that the two of you would have worked out that ‘old married couple’ thing you have going and made it properly official.”

Dean can’t help but glance at Jack, whose eyes are wide. “Cas and I aren’t a couple,” he says. “We don’t…we aren’t like that.”

“Aren’t you?”

Jack looks to Dean, as if for confirmation, and Dean’s chest gets tight. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again. Rowena nods knowingly. “That’s what I thought.” She pats his hand. “Don’t worry. He’s just as sickeningly infatuated with you as you are with him. The two of you are hardly subtle.”

Dean glances at Jack again. The kid is watching him, and Dean suddenly feels very, _very_ stupid.

“Shut up,” he growls at Rowena, because that’s the kind of relationship they have, and Rowena grins at him and takes another sip of her drink.

 

+1

“Can we talk?” Dean asks, and Cas looks up from the book he’s reading, something thick and occult from the bunker’s library.

He sets the book on the bedside table and swings his legs over the side of his bed, pushing himself up into a stand. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

He is, as always, clad in that suit and tie, trenchcoat draped around him, and despite how familiar it is, or maybe because of it, that alone nearly stills Dean’s tongue. But he swallows around it and keeps going. “Nothing…nothing’s wrong. I just thought we could have a talk.”

“Generally, when people say ‘we need to talk,’ it means something’s wrong.” Cas is squinting at him, not quite suspicious, but curious.

Dean grips the doorframe for support and gestures to the bed. “Can I sit?”

Cas nods, and when Dean takes a seat, he takes one too. Dean can almost count the inches between them, visualizing the little tic marks between Cas’s thigh and his. “Are you sure everything’s alright?” Cas asks.

Dean nods. His tongue is swollen. He takes a breath. “You remember the other day? When I told you I was bi?”

“I remember.”

“I…” He practiced this speech in his head a thousand times, but now that he’s actually in front of Cas, dredging up the words is almost impossible. He powers through. “I’ve been thinking a lot about…you know…” He rubs the back of his neck. Cas’s face changes, a sort of understanding lighting up behind his eyes.

“This is about us.”

“Yeah.” He’s simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Cas knows what he’s talking about. He’s relieved because if Cas know, if he understands what Dean’s getting at, the fact that he isn’t running away or shooting Dean down immediately is a good sign. But he’s disappointed because if Cas knows…

“You never said anything,” he says softly.

Cas stares at his knees. “You never said anything either.”

“Can’t you feel longing?”

“Of course. But I assumed you weren’t interested in acting on it. You never gave any indication-“ Cas cuts himself off. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“I wish you had,” Dean admits, “but I don’t know. If you had said something sooner, I might not…I might not have been ready to hear it.”

“And you’re ready to hear it now?”

Dean nods. “I’m out. I feel…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Hell, I feel okay about this for the first time in pretty much ever. Besides,” he jokes, “you’re not even technically a guy, right?”

“Angels do not have genders,” Cas acknowledges. “Not in the human sense of the word. I usually favor whatever my vessel considers themselves.” He gestures loosely at his knees. “In Jimmy’s case…”

“A guy,” Dean finishes, then adds, “A really hot guy.”

For the first time since they’ve sat down, Cas looks at him, and Dean’s breath catches. “Your soul was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” Cas says softly. “I don’t think I’ll ever see anything more beautiful than you.”

It’s cheesy but honest and so very Cas and Dean doesn’t have a response for that so silence falls, silence as they stare at each other, and this Dean is familiar with, the staring, like Cas is peering into his soul again and Dean struggles in vain to see the grace behind Cas’s eyes, but it’s not there. It’s just Cas, pure and simple, and soul-baring or otherwise, Dean can’t force himself to break pattern, can’t make himself do more than stare at Cas, swaying forward ever so slightly because Cas has always drawn him in like a gravity well.

It’s Cas who breaks pattern, who tears up the pages and goes against expectations because that is what they do, Cas who leans forward all the way and cradles Dean’s cheek in his hand, pressing a feather-light kiss to his lips. Dean’s eyes flutter shut of their own accord, and when Cas pulls away it’s hardly a hair’s breadth.

“Dean?” he whispers, making Dean’s name into a question.

Rather than answer, Dean pulls him in for another kiss, his hand finding its way to the back of Cas’s neck, anchoring him there. Cas is warm, his lips are chapped but soft, and kissing him feels like finally, finally coming home.


End file.
